


Lovers Fight and Sing Fortissimo

by marvinjuana



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvinjuana/pseuds/marvinjuana
Summary: The Marvin and Whizzer of now are less destructive, less catastrophic, and more in love.





	Lovers Fight and Sing Fortissimo

**Author's Note:**

> lovers fight and sing fortissimo aka how many other fics can u count that are titled as such
> 
> my first fic for falsettos.  
> for broadway.  
> for musicals, in general.

Marvin closes the door softly behind him, placing his briefcase on the ground. The stress of the day melts away as he takes off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. Both are left messily by the door, where he will most definitely be forced to pick them up the following morning by his lover. That’s a future him’s problem, though.

He leans his forehead on the door tiredly, as he locks it, letting his eyes slip close for a moment. It has been a long day, and he really just wants to change out of his stuffy suit into some comfy clothes, curl up under the covers with Whizzer, and sleep for ten years. He doesn’t know if he will be able to get to sleep easily, though what with the events that had occurred that morning.

As a couple prone to arguments, Marvin and Whizzer have had their fair share of disagreements. They are both too stubborn and prideful, and even though they had both been working on these flaws, sometimes they relapse to their old ways. That morning had been one of those disagreements that ended in shards of his favorite mug ricocheting against the floor and shouting that had woken him up better than the shot of espresso the mug held. Thinking back on it, he doesn’t quite remember why they had been arguing, and it reminds him painfully of three years prior when he and Whizzer would bicker for the sake of bickering; how the feuds brought their relationship to an end.

Marvin didn’t want to go back there. No, he _couldn’t_ go back there. The two years without Whizzer had been hell, and now that he’s had the love of his life back in his life for a year, he feels like he can breathe again. His mind is already racing with thoughts about Whizzer being upset with him (he hadn’t tried to contact him once all day), and he groans.

Whether or not Whizzer is irate doesn’t stop him from needing sleep, so with a heavier heart, he straightens out and looks back into the apartment. It’s dark for the most part, which is not out of the norm, considering the time. A feeling of relief washes over him, though, when he notices a dim light coming from the end of the hallway, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Slowly, he makes his way towards the light, tripping over his own shoes in the process.

This is also not unusual (both the tripping over his shoes and the light).

Every time Marvin has to work late, he texts Whizzer as such and tells him not to wait up, and every time, he comes home to Whizzer lounging on the couch in front of their television. Sometimes, he is asleep, light blue comforter thrown over his legs, and sometimes, he is awake, scrolling through his phone or flipping through the channels. No matter what, he’s there. The fact that Whizzer waited for him lifts a weight he hadn’t even notice settle on his shoulders. This means that his lover isn’t as enraged as he had thought. Perhaps the space had done them good. Perhaps they both have cooled down enough. Perhaps time had made them more mature. Despite knowing this, Marvin is still hesitant when he steps into the living room.

Whizzer doesn’t stir, as Marvin makes his way over to the illuminated lump curled up on the suede couch nor when he carefully sits down at the edge of the sofa. The light from the television casts a blue glow over Whizzer’s face, and Marvin is captivated by the features of his lover.

 _Beautiful,_ he can’t help but think to himself. _Whizzer is beautiful_.

Asleep, Whizzer is peaceful, gentle, and almost angelic. The lines on his forehead smoothen out and the smirk that constantly plays on his lips, teasing and annoying, is replaced by an innocent downturn.

Marvin feels a rush of affection burbling in his chest when Whizzer scrunches his nose, the minute wrinkles on the bridge appearing and disappearing just as quickly as they had appeared. _I am so lucky._

“Are you done watching me, you creep?” Whizzer’s groggy voice cuts through the calm, his eyes still closed.

“How’d you even know?” Marvin responds.

“I have eyes on the back of my head.” Whizzer cracks a smile, stretching his long legs and opening his arms so that Marvin will cuddle him.

Marvin moves in response, laying down beside him and wrapping his arms around Whizzer’s waist. He shudders when he feels Whizzer’s hot breath against his throat. “The back of your head wasn’t even facing me.”

Whizzer only hums in response, his breathing slowing as he dozes against Marvin. With the both of them lying side by side on the couch, it’s a tight fit, but Marvin doesn’t dare move. Having Whizzer in his arms like this is, as his son would say, the miracle of Judaism.

He’s just drifting off to sleep as well, when he feels Whizzer jerk up, almost knocking him off the couch in the process. In the faint gleam, he can see the taller man frowning and blinking away the sleepiness from his eyes rapidly.

“We need to talk,” Whizzer says, voice still hoarse.

“It’s one in the morning, babe,” Marvin points out, running a hand through his hair. Although he knows that they do have to talk, he also knows that it is much too late to do any real talking. “We’re just going to end up hating each other, if we talk now.”

Whizzer is silent, eyes narrowing, before softening. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just.” He pauses, playing with Marvin’s fingers. “I don’t want to go to bed angry. We did that too often before.”

Marvin nods. “I agree,” he responds, intertwining his fingers with Whizzer’s bandaged ones. “I’m not angry. Are you?”

“No.”

“So, we’re good?”

“We fought this morning,” Whizzer reminds him. “You work too much.”

 _Ah, so that’s what that argument had been about_ , Marvin thinks. “You’re right,” he concedes a moment’s silence. “Let’s talk tomorrow about how we can fix that, yeah?”

Whizzer looks at Marvin, and Marvin stares back.

Three years ago, Marvin would have sneered at Whizzer that _he_ was the one making the most money, so that Whizzer could afford all of his designer shirts and jackets. Three years ago, Marvin would have snarled Whizzer that his opinion didn’t matter, that if he wanted a say, he could start raking in some cash, instead of bouncing from bar to bar and living in other people’s apartments. But the Marvin three years ago has matured to be the man he is today, for the most part. In exchange, he gets Whizzer, who has also matured in the past three years and brings his opinions to the table, so they can talk through them and make compromises without judgement from either side, who doesn’t relieve his stress by sleeping with random men, who is making it work with Marvin (and Marvin with him).

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow?” Whizzer finally asks, raising a wrapped pinky finger.

Marvin sighs, exasperated at the childish gesture, but nevertheless hooks his own pinky finger with Whizzer’s. “We can get together on my lunch to talk, okay?”

Whizzer nods, placated, and yawns. “Okay, let’s go to bed. I have a shoot early in the morning.”

“By the way,” Marvin begins, getting ready to rise from the couch, feeling the exhaustion from the day pulling on his eyelids. “Why are there Superman bandaids all over your fingers?”

“Oh, yeah,” Whizzer says, ignoring the question. “I have something for you,” He pulls away from Marvin and rolls over him, pushing the smaller man back down, as he stands. “Wait right here.”

He disappears into the kitchen, leaving Marvin alone. “I want an answer when you come back,” he calls out, shifting his gaze to watch the muted _Full House_ episode playing on the television. He wraps the comforter Whizzer had abandoned around his shoulders and sits up against the cushions. He’s just gotten comfortable again when Whizzer comes back, holding something in his hands. Marvin cocks his head to the side, but opens his arms for the taller man to sink into his side, which he does and the object becomes clearer. “Hey, that’s my -”

“Your mug,” Whizzer finishes. “I glued it back together. I don’t think you can still use it, but hey, now it’s a piece of modern art.”

Marvin takes the mug into his hands, inspecting it. It’s quite simple, actually, a mint green color which a single, pastel pink colored heart in the middle. However, it’s his favorite for a reason. On the handle, the letters _W + M_ are engraved. Whizzer had made him the mug a few weeks before they had broken up three years ago. To say that he had been devastated when, in a fit of rage, Whizzer had swiped his hand across the counter and knocked it to the floor, would be an understatement. He spent the entire commute to his law firm swallowing a lump in his throat. He’d always been the kind to get too attached to things (his previous marriage is a great example). “Whizz,” he murmurs, thumbing the engravement.

“I know how much you liked this stupid mug, and I felt bad about breaking it.” Whizzer tangles their legs together. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Marvin responds almost automatically. “Except, maybe calling my mug stupid. It was an accident.”

Whizzer snorts, resting his head on Marvin’s shoulder. “It’s a stupid mug that I made years ago for like twenty dollars. You’re just sentimental, but I am still sorry.”

Marvin doesn’t respond, instead pressing a kiss into Whizzer’s hair. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I really appreciate it.”

Whizzer is silent for a moment, before tilting his head up and placing a quick peck on Marvin’s lips, his eyes shining playfully in the television light. “Yeah, yeah, nerd. I love you too.”

“I didn’t say that,” Marvin responds, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Whizzer grins crookedly, genuine and mischievous. “I know, but you were thinking it.”

Marvin surges forward, pulling Whizzer towards himself to kiss the taller man more deeply, preening over the way Whizzer chases after he pulls away. “That I was,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against Whizzer’s. “For now and forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> come scream with me abt the fact that every time i watch falsettos, whizzer fuckin dies (what the heck!!) on tumblr @ marvinjuana.tumblr.com
> 
> and uhhhh leave some kudos or comments, if u want!


End file.
